


Our Help Hotline is Available 24/7

by Stoic_Zee



Series: Amnesiacs Anonymous [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Fluff, Jake Jensen is Steve Rogers, Jake Jensen is not Captain America, Jake Jensen to the Rescue, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-The Losers (Movie), Steve Rogers is Captain America, Timeline What Timeline, Wait-what?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 00:59:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7077979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stoic_Zee/pseuds/Stoic_Zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake's having a family emergency. His sister is creative. He knows she can think of something to tell his boss when he calls. Jake has more important things to worry about like a Hydra compound that needs raiding and a boyfriend that needs rescuing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sadly, this story is rated for casual violence and not for anything fun. However, Chapter 2 is fluffiest thing I have ever written. 
> 
> Also, this story is set before Jake joins the Losers but after he's been in the Army for a while.

Jake watched as the security team started a new shift. The patrol pattern hadn’t varied in ten hours since he started surveillance, but as much as it killed him to wait, he couldn’t take any chances. Jake was on his own, no team, no back up. If they captured him, no one was coming for him, and worse, no one would be coming for James.

Jake waited for the new shift to settle into their rhythm and took the opportunity to double-check his arsenal. Two years of active military service and he still forgot his gun whenever possible—much to his brother-in-law’s dismay and that of his teammates—but today he had enough ammunition to compete with Neo in _The Matrix,_ though he lacked a kickass black trench coat.

Taking a steadying breath, Jake slipped into Mission Mode and started the long journey across the yard and into the main compound. The thing was, on missions anyway, Jake didn’t need to make noise the way he usually did. His senses were always on high alert, and he always noticed everything. But unlike usual, when that information shattered into dark and cold and thundering cracks the like the bones of the Earth breaking in his ears, focus came easily in combat.

Still, the first few times he had gone actual missions, his team at the time had freaked out so much at the silence from his comm that he had made the executive decision to keep up the commentary unless it would get someone dead. After a few months, talking on missions was habit, and he knew the team usually appreciated the heads-up that he was alive and working. A few commanders had even been able to rescue him a few times from a nasty fate when he abruptly went silent on the line. (Except for that time when they decided he was dead and blew up the building with him inside of it. But Jake never brought it up voluntarily because James, Jenna, and Jenna’s sainted husband, always looked ready to commit murder at the thought.)

Outside of combat, the only time Jake never felt the _need_ to talk was when he was watching over his niece or when he was with James. Em was a tiny spark of joy and laughter that kept even the worst of the darkness at bay. James was something else. James radiated a sense of home and safety that completely overwhelmed Jake’s overclocked brain and let him relax. He had never needed to fill the silence when the scent of James or the sound of his breathing or the heat of his body had told him exactly when and where and who he was, or as close as it was possible to know. Better yet, James enjoyed listening to Jake babble when he did find something to talk about. He said it was grounding. Amnesiac coping mechanisms for the win!

Jake got inside the compound without anyone noticing him, which was the goal. He would need to kill the guards on the way back out, but the longer he could coast under the radar, the easier it would be to get to James.

A faint chime in his ear told him he had cracked the wireless system. They were using Stark tech, which wasn’t a bad idea, even the old stuff was years ahead of the competition, but bad guys weren’t eligible for security updates, so it was easy for his cracker program to gain remote access. He slipped into a shadowed corner, pulled out his tablet—which he had also cobbled together with scavenged Stark tech but at least had the sense to keep it up to date as much as possible—and searched until found a basic layout of the network systems of the base. It was almost as good as a map.

Jake identified the probable location of the security control room and silently made his way there. He killed the guard outside the room by casually sauntering up and slicing his throat open before the man could process his appearance. He killed the one who opened the door at his knock the same way, and the man who looked up at sound of the body hitting the floor got the knife thrown into his eye.

Of the two remaining men, one reached for the alarm and the other for a gun. Jake shot the one going for the alarm, once in the chest and once in the head blowing him away from the console. That gave the last man time to draw his weapon but not enough time to aim, and when Jake turned toward him, the evil minion’s shot went wide. He went down with two shots to center mass. He was still groping for a gun and trying to force the words “Hail, Hydra” past blood-stained lips when Jake shot him neatly in the forehead.

“Room secure,” murmured Jake quietly.

It was too easy sometimes—not in the emotional department, because Jake felt faint regret about killing but he never felt bad about killing to protect others, especially James—but from a physical standpoint Jake was only a little weaker and a little slower than the infamous Winter Soldier. They had figured out that he could become stronger and faster if he ate more, but Jake’s initial reason for eating less—not wanting to eat the nice lady who basically adopted him (a.k.a. Jenna, best sister ever) out of house and home—had landed him in peak condition for a man his presumed age and suddenly growing in strength would be strange. Neither Jake nor James wanted him to attract more attention from the US government, not until they knew exactly who Jake used to be.

He connected his tablet to the console and within minutes had full access to the base’s security network—unfortunately the experiments were all on self-contained networks—and an actual map of the compound. From what he could tell, there were only about twenty remaining security minions, including the five on the outside perimeter, but there were almost forty scientists, most whom he was pretty sure fell into the evil-not-helpless category and probably had access to weapons and chemicals more dangerous than Jake’s handful of guns.

Unfortunately, there were no helpful “Winter Soldier is here” labels on any of the rooms, and the signal transmitter in his arm wasn’t that accurate. Jake would definitely be fixing that problem later, probably a lot later because James was always twitchy about letting Jake work on his arm after he was captured.

Jake cued up the security cameras, automatically transferring the feeds to his tablet, and settled for looking through the cameras one at a time. Most of the cameras displayed empty hallways. There was a set of barracks, something that could have doubled for a cafeteria, and lots of labs containing one or two scientists huddled over computer screens. One camera displayed half-a-dozen or so men in lab coats around a table with a few scattered security personnel, and for a moment Jake was ready to dismiss it as a break room of some kind—even bad guys had to eat, a fact which many missions often hinged on depressingly enough—but there were no chairs and there were too many monitors, and he had already seen the cafeteria.

A flicker of movement from what he initially thought was table drew Jake’s attention. There was person struggling in something like the dentist’s chair from hell and his face was all covered but even in the crummy black and white of the security cameras Jake could see the flash of metal from the left shoulder, and it was _James_ , and Jake felt rage.

Jake didn’t exactly lose time after that. In fact, he remembered every single second with perfect clarity. He simply entered what he would later describe to Jenna—without any of the gorier details—as an altered state of consciousness. He took his tablet and his gun and proceeded to kill everyone in the building as he made his way down to the basement.

Hitting the room in question, Jake took out the security personnel first, who had been there to protect the scientists from James and weren’t expecting an assault from the door, and their surprise made it easy as shooting fish in a barrel. The scientists huddled around James barely had time to do more than scream before Jake gunned them down too.

But killing them didn’t turn off the machine, and Jake didn’t even think before he was across the room and ripping it off James’ head and into tiny, tiny pieces. (He may have gotten zapped a few times before he remembered to yank the power cord, but James was too out of it to notice, and Jake wasn’t about to go around telling people.)

Jake stared down at his boyfriend, mind and body temporarily frozen in horror, he had bloody mouth from cracked teeth and electrical burns, but James’ super healing was already taking care of those. Worse, he had a glazed, practically vacant expression in his eyes. Jake carefully, very, very carefully, cupped the side of James’ face and ran a thumb across his cheekbone.

“Let’s get you out of here, pal.”

Either the touch or the noise got James’ attention. He blinked and stared at Jake in blurry confusion.

“Steve?” came the dry rasp from a screamed-out throat.

Jake’s breath caught in his throat. “Nope. But that’s okay. You get one free pass on the name. I got one when we first met, now it’s your turn.”

“Jay?” It was an inquiring sound more than a word, but it was his name.

“Yeah, that’s right. Let’s blow this popsicle stand and head home, Okay?” said Jake.

“Hmm,” mumbled James slowly lifting himself out of the chair. “Jen? Em?”

“That’s right,” said Jake holding out a hand for James to use as leverage if he chose. He knew better than to get too grabby after James had a run-in with mad scientists. “Jenna’s. Home. You and me and the girls. But first you gotta get up. Okay? I don’t think I can carry you and shoot at the same time.”

James took Jake’s hand and let him pull him out of the chair. James swayed dangerously in place for a minute or so, but his eyes were starting to clear.

“Gun,” said James holding out his metal hand.

Jake gave him dubious look, but the metal arm was steady—steadiest part of him when it came down to it—and James was looking a little hunted, totally understandable given the situation. Jake passed him a gun and slipped an extra clip into his pocket because even mind-fucked James knew the importance of extra ammo.

“No shooting me and no shooting you, O.K.?” asked Jake.

“Kay,” said James still sounding a little fuzzy but so earnestly determined that Jake had to smile a little bit.

He glanced at the room. The entire set-up threatened to bring back the mind numbing rage. He pulled out his tablet and connected it to the computer network, ready to wipe out all information on the memory machine…

Only there weren’t just technical details on this system. There were stored mission reports too. Unlike other places, which had been designed for temporary storage, this location must have been a base for the Winter Soldier for a long time. Jake looked at James, who checking the ammo-clip for his gun clearly feeling better, and downloaded all of the information to his computer (thank you extra RAM). James could look at it later, if he wanted.

Jake then proceeded to wipe the computers clean and plant a shaped charge on the chair.

“Is that C-4?” asked James sounding amused.

“I couldn’t get enough for the whole building without someone noticing,” said Jake herding him out of the room. “But I made sure I brought enough if we found one of those.” He held out the detonator. “Would you like to do the honors?”

James took the transmitter then looked at the now-closed door and their exposed position in the hall. “Won’t someone notice?”

Jake shrugged. “Only the ones that are still alive. And I figure, why waste time looking for them, when as hosts, they should come to us?”

James smiled. “You are my favorite,” he said and hit the button.


	2. Chapter 2

_“Stark Industries Technical Support Center. This is Casey. How may I help you today?”_

 “Hi, Casey, I’m Jake. I was wondering if this phone call could be recorded to improve customer service, not that you aren’t doing a great job, it would just make me feel a lot better,” he said trying to match her level of perky.

 _“I can do that. No problem,”_ said Casey after only the briefest hesitation. There was just the tiniest click, a hint of static on the line, Jake smiled fondly at the sweet sounds of wiretapping. _“There we go. This whole conversation will be recorded. Now, what can I do for you?”_

“Alright, bear with me just a minute. This is going to sound kind of weird. You may have to bump me up to a supervisor at some point, and I won’t hold it against you.”

 _“I’ll do my best,”_ said Casey. Still perky but probably thinking nasty thoughts at him.

“Alright, so I am part of Spec Ops team, the kind that does slightly illegal things in places we’re really not supposed to be, especially since we’re American, but we do them to bad guys, so it’s mostly okay. And my team has just raided one of these places and effectively shut it down for the moment. But on the way in, I noticed a lot of the stuff these guys are using is recycled Stark tech. Now, I know Stark Industries doesn’t manufacture weapons anymore, but a lot of that stuff is still out there on the black market because it’s made really, really well.

“Anyway, the thing is, since my team isn’t really supposed to be here, we can’t do anything to any of this stuff. If we blow it up, it’ll compromise our mission. And if we leave it here, other bad guys will eventually show up and haul it away to use again. So we’re all debating about what to do with all of this stuff, and I remember that Iron Man made this huge deal about not leaving his weapons in the hands of terrorists. And I am really hoping that he will want to clean this up. Still with me, Casey?”

There was a moment of quiet from the other end and then a sheepish, _“You know, I’ve worked here for three years and I’ve never gotten one of these calls, so I can’t remember how to turn on the program that tracks where you’re calling from.”_

Jake made a sympathetic noise. “I can imagine they don’t happen too often. But that’s okay, I’m not calling from a phone in the facility anyway. Are you still recording?”

 _“I really am,”_ said Casey fervently.

“That’s good,” said Jake then he rattled of a set of coordinates he had burned into his memory the moment James trigged his emergency transponder. “So that’s where I am. Also, there are some…empty labs with running experiments, so whoever comes will need to be prepared for that. And my team won’t be here because our presence is still illegal despite bad guys.”

 _“Right,”_ said Casey nervous but still perky. _“Is there anything else I can do for you, while I have you on the line?”_

“Nope, that’s all I needed,” said Jake.

 _“And would you mind rating your call to our Support Center on a scale of one to ten before you go?”_ asked Casey falling back on her script.

“Oh, you definitely turned it up to eleven,” said Jake. “Thanks for your help.”

 _“Thank you for calling,”_ said Casey.

Jake ended the call feeling pretty good with himself and immediately started ripping the phone to pieces.

“I cannot believe you,” said James from the bed. “Stark Technical Support?”

Jake beamed at him. “I would have called SHIELD, except I don’t have their number, and I’m fairly sure their tech-support operators aren’t as cute.”

James scowled. “How do you know she was cute?”

“She sounded cute,” said Jake. He opened a window and pitched the pieces of the phone into the river then moved to join James on the bed, comfortably certain that, even if Stark could somehow trace the encrypted call, that the cruise-boat would have them well down the river by the time the man reached Europe.

“But, cute isn’t really my thing. Except you know, Beth, in an adorable niece-like way and not a weird, pedo-way where the only response would be death-by-a-thousand-cuts.” Jake frowned. “I should really stop talking now, except I’m not sure how to get back to my point.”

James rolled his eyes and tugged him down on to the bed. “If cute isn’t your thing, then what is?”

“You,” said Jake.

“Is that it?” asked James. He sounded sarcastic but he looked pleased.

“Yeah,” said Jake not even needing to think about it.

“Good,” confirmed James. “You’re my type too.”

One heavy make-out session later, sadly they were both too tired for more, and James was dozing lightly with his head directly over Jake’s heart and his metal arm curled protectively around Jake’s stomach. Jake thought about the information on the tablet.

When this sort of thing happened before, he had always focused on getting James and getting out. But Hydra had files on James. Mission files, status reports on the Winter Soldier project, and maybe in there somewhere was James’ original identity. It was worth looking into.

Jake curled ran his fingers through James’ hair and smiled at the sleepy grumble. It was worth looking into…in the morning.


End file.
